


Back in Business

by Emospritelet



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fingerfucking, I have since been told this was a lie, Light Angst, Oral Sex, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, a mere sprinkle, barely even there, death mention, except it isn't unresolved because, just a pinch, okay there is angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 01:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15377256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emospritelet/pseuds/Emospritelet
Summary: When Belle French moved to Storybrooke with her father, she wasn't expecting to find the library closed for business, nor to develop an all-consuming crush on the man she has to persuade to open it up.Rumbelle Christmas in July 2018 gift for @winterswanderlust.  Prompt: sunflowers, out of business, AU.





	1. Chapter 1

As a child, Belle French had once read a Ted Hughes poem called _November_ , which began with the line _“the month of the drowned dog”._  The poem had filled her with an unfamiliar and unwelcome sense of foreboding, and now that she was in the northern hemisphere, in the dark and cold of winter, she was reminded of it. She missed Melbourne, with its hot sun and long stretches of sand and the way the evening air was filled with the shouts of children playing on the beach and the scent of flowers. Her father’s decision to pack up and leave, moving halfway around the world to a town in Maine, of all places, had been hard to accept. She found November in Storybrooke to be dark and ominous, filled with leaden skies and heavy rain, the wind bitingly cold and on the cusp of snow. The two-bed home they had rented failed to keep out the wind entirely, and Belle had lain awake the first night, listening to it whistle and moan, an unquiet soul in the strange house that was already too quiet, too bleak. Her father had changed since her mother had died, grown bitter and withdrawn, and while she could understand wanting to run from everything that reminded him of his old life with the woman he loved, it didn’t fix the pain. It didn’t fix anything.

The town of Storybrooke was considered small, by American standards, but large enough that she was still finding her way around after almost a week of exploring. She thought that she was starting to make friends, though. Ruby, one of the waitresses at Granny’s Diner, was sweet, with a ready smile and kind nature, and Belle had only had to order takeout coffees twice before she was invited to the regular Friday girls’ night at the local bar.  Ruby had also offered her a job waiting tables, working shifts with her and another girl called Ashley, but Belle had politely declined. She had a job in the flower shop that her father had rented as a fallback, but had her sights set elsewhere.

Her career plans required a visit to the Town Hall to make some enquiries with whoever was responsible for municipal services, and Belle hurried along the street, clutching her too-thin coat around herself and glancing anxiously up at the iron-grey sky that was threatening rain. She ducked inside the Town Hall with relief, and, having explained what she was enquiring about, was asked to wait for the relevant clerk. Dorothy Gale was a pretty, no-nonsense young woman with an air of efficiency, dark brown hair braided into two side-plaits. She eyed Belle with growing approval as she explained what it was that she wanted.

“I’d have to run it past the Mayor,” said Ms Gale. “Perhaps before the next Council meeting. There are certainly funds in the budget to cover the post, and God knows it would be good to get that resource going for the kids in this town. We just haven’t had a suitable candidate raise the issue. The place has been closed for as long as I can remember.”

“Well, I can show you my qualifications,” said Belle anxiously. “I had a job working part-time in the Melbourne library since I graduated last year, and—”

Ms Gale raised a hand, cutting her off.

“I don’t doubt you’re qualified,” she said. “But save it for the Mayor. If she wants to raise it at the meeting, of course. I don’t want to make any promises; there have been a lot of calls on town funding this past year.”

“Well, I appreciate your honesty,” said Belle. “But I’m sure you’ll agree that the children of this town deserve a dedicated library facility with all that would entail. Reading classes, story time, opportunities for after-school study sessions…”

Ms Gale was smiling.

“Like I said, save it for the Mayor,” she said. “You don’t have to convince me.”

“Okay.”

Belle sat back, feeling pleased. Ms Gale finished what she was writing, and looked up with a quirk of one eyebrow.

“You’ll need to convince Mr Gold, though,” she said.

Belle’s eyebrows drew down.

“Mr Gold?” she said, in puzzlement. “Isn’t that - I think that’s our landlord.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt it,” said Ms Gale, straightening up and flicking her braids back over her shoulders. “He owns almost all the property in town. Including the library. The post would be funded by the town, but he would need to agree to the library being reopened. Which he’s so far failed to do.”

“What?” Belle blinked, surprised. “He doesn’t want the town to have a library?”

Ms Gale shrugged.

“I can think of six people off the top of my head who’ve asked him to rent the place to them,” she said. “Not for a library, admittedly, but someone wanted to turn it into a bookstore. Another person wanted to open up one of those books-and-coffee places. He turned them all down.”

“Oh.” Belle fidgeted, tugging at the hem of her skirt. “Do you know why?”

She shook her head, braids swinging.

“Maybe their business plans were bad, although you’d think any rent he could get for the place would be better than none.”

“So you think I’m wasting my time?” asked Belle, somewhat crestfallen, and Ms Gale shrugged again.

“Just saying don’t get your hopes up,” she said. “Even if he says yes, it could need some work doing before it would be suitable for use as a public building again. I imagine you’d need his agreement to cover that before the Mayor would even consider offering you the post.”

“Oh.” Belle chewed her lip. “Oh. Well, in that case, I’d better go try to convince him. Where can I find him?”

Ms Gale gestured with her pen.

“Back down to Main Street, go past Granny’s and the bakery. He owns the pawnshop on the corner. Can’t miss it.”

“Right.” Belle pushed back her chair. “Well, thank you. You’ve been a big help.”

“A moment.” Ms Gale set down her pen, folding her arms on the desk. “I should warn you. Gold’s not known for his generosity. Everything comes with a price with him. He likes to stick to the letter of any agreement he makes, and he and the Mayor are not on the best of terms.”

“Oh.” Belle felt a sliver of unease work its way beneath her skin. “Oh, well I - I guess I’ll have to do my best!”

“Good luck,” said Ms Gale. “If he agrees, come back and let me know.”

Belle walked back out onto the street, rain from the seemingly ever-present clouds just starting to spit. It grew heavier as she walked back towards Main Street, and she shivered a little, tugging her coat around herself and wishing that she had thought to buy an umbrella. She suspected that the few winter clothes she had purchased in advance of travelling to Maine would be both ineffective and insufficient, and she resolved to get a proper winter coat and some sturdier boots. Just as soon as she could be sure of earning her living as a librarian.

At just after four-thirty in the afternoon, it was already growing dark, the thick clouds adding to the sense of approaching night. Rain was drumming against the sidewalk by the time she scurried past Granny’s, and she shot the diner a furtive glance, its cheerful, warm light tempting her to duck inside and wait out the downpour. After a week in this town, however, she was well aware that the rain was probably only just getting started, and from the directions Ms Gale had given her, Mr Gold’s shop was not far. She pushed her chin down into her collar, hunching her shoulders, and quickened her pace, feeling a wave of relief go through her as she spotted the lit sign hanging outside her destination.  _Mr. Gold: Pawnbroker and Antiquities Dealer_.

The shop was faced with sea-green clapboard, and she grasped at the rain-spattered door handle, pushing open the door. A bell above tinkled merrily as she ducked inside, and she quickly shut the door behind her to keep out the rain. She shook the water from her palm, instinctively wiping it against her coat as she looked around. The shop was quiet and seemingly empty, its floor laid with shining dark wood. It smelt of beeswax and very faintly of the musty scent of old books. A counter was in front of her, with an ancient cash register placed to one side of it. Paintings in a myriad of sizes were hung on the wall behind in ornate gold-painted frames: landscapes and bowls of fruit and people in clothes that were two centuries old or more. Clocks ticked in a low, comforting rhythm, and lamps with shades of coloured glass and painted silk sat in sconces on the walls, sending out a yellowish light that gave the place an air of something out of its time, pulled from the nineteenth century into modern day America, a tiny capsule of the past frozen in the present. The shelves of the shop held a myriad of objects: porcelain figurines and glittering glass vases, ancient toys in scuffed cardboard boxes, old books and silver plate. Glass counters stood in front of the shelves, shining warm light onto the treasures within, tea sets and trinkets, necklaces and netsuke, jade and jewellery.

“May I help you?”

Belle jumped, her head turning towards the back of the shop. A man had appeared, standing in front of a thick, patterned curtain, his hands folded over a gold-handled cane with a dark, gleaming shaft. He was short and slight, dressed in a slim-fitting dark suit that had to have been made for him. It was a three piece, the waistcoat over a silk shirt the colour of rich claret, the tie a lustrous black. His face was angular, with high cheekbones and a long nose, framed by soft sweeps of brown hair just starting to turn silver at the temples. Dark eyes ran over her before snapping back up to meet hers, and she was suddenly very aware that her hair was plastered to her head and rainwater was dripping from her coat in a steady stream to pool on the floor around her.

“Are you Mr Gold?” she asked, and his mouth lifted at one corner.

“Well, it is my shop.”

His voice was low, a growling whisper, thickened with the burr of a Scottish accent, and Belle could feel herself blush, her heart starting to thump as his eyes gleamed at her.

“Of - of course,” she stammered. “Sorry, I just—”

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he interrupted, and took a step forward, the cane tapping against the floor. “I suspect you’re Mr French’s daughter, yes?”

“I - yes.” Belle licked a droplet of rainwater from her lip. “How did you guess?”

“The accent is something of a giveaway,” he said, with a tiny grin. “How may I help you?”

“I, uh—”  Belle shook water from her hands, droplets spattering on the floor. “I understand I need to talk to you about reopening the library building.”

One of his eyebrows flicked, the merest indication of surprise.

“That place hasn’t been open in years,” he said, and his voice was suddenly, strangely flat. Emotionless.

“Yeah, so I heard,” said Belle. “Do you know why?”

“Because I chose not to open it,” he said simply.

“That’s - kind of a circular answer,” she said, and his mouth thinned, fingers opening and closing on the cane, irritation plain in the set of his jaw.

“My reasons are my own, Miss French.”

“Oh, of course!” she said hastily. “It’s your property, and - and I don’t mean to pry, it’s just - well, I just moved here, and I saw it, and I couldn’t help thinking that the town needed a library, and - and I’m looking for a job, so it just seemed a perfect fit, that’s all.”

Mr Gold eyed her in silence for a moment.

“Well, I do own the building,” he said eventually. “You’re a librarian?”

“I am.”

She drew herself up, feeling a swell of pride as she always did when she spoke of her profession. Mr Gold looked her over again, his gaze calculating, and she wondered what it was that he saw beyond her wet hair and unsuitable clothing.

“You’d need to get the Mayor to agree to pay the rent and to hire you,” he said then. “I have no say in how she chooses to allocate town funds.”

“Oh, I know that,” she said. “But - but I need you to agree to open it up for business first, right?”

Mr Gold continued to watch her, his fingers drumming slowly on the cane handle.

“I never intended to open the place again,” he said quietly, and she gave him her best smile.

“Well, then I guess I’ll have to convince you.”

Mr Gold sucked in his cheeks a little, as though he was thinking it over. A rumble of thunder outside made her jump, and he smiled slightly.

“You seem to have run afoul of the oncoming storm, Miss French,” he said. “Would you like to come through to the back room to dry off? I could make us a drink, if you like.”

He turned on his heels, shining shoes swivelling, the light catching his hair as he pushed the curtain to one side and disappeared. For a moment Belle hesitated, left in the dimly-lit shop with its ticking clocks and the rhythmic drip of water from the sleeves of her coat. She raised her chin, stepping forward to follow him, the woven curtain a little rough against her fingertips as she pushed it aside.

The back room of Mr Gold’s shop was more haphazard than the shop itself. Shelves held a jumble of items, some still in thick cardboard boxes. Heavy ledgers sat in a row on one of the lower shelves, and there were benches with lamps and magnifying glasses and delicate tools that she presumed were for repairing things. Mr Gold was standing in front of a carved mahogany cupboard, and glanced over his shoulder.

“I could make you tea,” he said. “Or given the hour and the fact that you’re drenched, perhaps you’d prefer something stronger?”

“Something stronger sounds good,” she said fervently.

He nodded, reaching into the cupboard and retrieving a bottle of whisky before setting it on the bench and reaching for two cut crystal glasses. Belle watched as he hooked the cane on one arm and opened up the whisky, pouring a measure into each glass. He turned to her and held one out, that tiny smile still twisting his mouth.

“I hope this is satisfactory,” he said.

She nodded, taking it. Not her usual drink, but she’d deal. He took a sip of his own drink, cradling the glass in one hand and looking her over as he took the cane and got it under himself once more. She wondered how he had hurt himself, and whether it was permanent. With a cane as sleek and ornate as that, she suspected that he had been injured for many years. She raised her glass and inhaled the fumes, the sharp burn of whisky in her nostrils, an aftertaste of peat and warm honey. One sip, and fire coursed its way down her throat, smooth after the initial burn, its flames licking over her from within. She shivered, and Mr Gold set down his glass.

“Where are my manners?” he said, almost to himself. “You must be freezing. Let me take your coat.”

He walked over to her, and Belle put her glass on the bench, shrugging off her coat. The rain had soaked through the shoulders, and she cursed her own stupidity at not buying something thicker and more suitable for the Maine weather. Mr Gold’s hands were at her shoulders, drawing the coat down her arms.

“You’re soaked through,” he whispered. “You’ll catch your death. Here.”

Losing the coat made her realise how cold she was, her blouse sticking to her skin where the rain had gotten through, and Mr Gold hung her coat over the back of an old chair, striding swiftly to one of the shelves and retrieving a thick bundle of folded fabric. He shook it out, revealing a patterned woollen shawl in dark green and gold. Belle took it from him gratefully, wrapping it around herself and perching on one of the wooden stools beside the bench. Warmth immediately began to seep into her, and she picked up her glass again, sipping at her whisky.

“Thank you,” she said, and he nodded, taking a drink.

“Now,” he said quietly. “You wanted to talk to me about the library. Convince me to open it.” He gestured to her, fingers splaying outwards. “The floor is yours.”

Belle leaned forwards.

“Well, I’m fully qualified,” she said eagerly. “I was working at a library in Melbourne before we moved over here, although it was only part-time, and I have a _ton_ of ideas that I’d like to try out with the local kids. Book clubs, after-school sessions, that kind of thing.”

“And you wish me to reopen a building that’s been closed for decades in order to facilitate this?”

“I - well, I - I hoped,” she said. “I saw that it was closed, and I - I wondered.”

“Another building wouldn’t suit your purpose, then?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I didn’t see any other places that were vacant, and given that it has a big sign outside saying ‘Library’, I figured I’d go with that one.”

Mr Gold took another drink, watching her over the rim of his glass, an intense, searching look, and she put her head to the side.

“Are you saying you have another suitable building I could use instead?”

“No,” he said abruptly. “Commercial real estate in Storybrooke is somewhat limited.”

“All the more reason to make use of what you have, then.”

His lips twitched, as though he were amused.

“So now we come down to my true interest in this matter,” he said, and raised an eyebrow. “What’s in it for me?”

“What could be more rewarding than knowing you’re helping to provide a valuable public resource?” she said, with wide-eyed innocence, and he grinned.

“Please. Be serious.”

“Well, if you want to be mercenary about it,” she said dryly. “I guess you’d get some rent out of it, too.”

“I don’t need the money.”

“Then you’re not losing anything by it, either.”

Mr Gold took another drink, watching her with the light of interest in his eyes. She wondered what he was thinking. He put down his glass.

“I daresay it’ll need a good clean,” he said.

“Oh, I can do that,” she said hastily. “I mean, as long as there are no major maintenance issues, of course.  If it’s just cleaning…”

“I also imagine that the selection of books in there is less than stellar,” he added. “It certainly hasn’t been added to since the library closed. You might want to ask the Mayor for extra funds.”

“Right.” Belle felt less sure that that request would be successful, but his response made her brighten. “Does that mean you’ll agree to open the building again?”

He gave her a twisted little smile, the fingers of one hand opening out in a fan. He had long fingers, she noticed, with smooth, neatly-trimmed nails.

“Well, it’s just sitting there gathering dust and costing me money,” he said dryly. “If you can make it work, all the better for me. Perhaps it’s time.”

“Right,” she said again, and took another drink, her mind working. He seemed to sense it, and tilted his head.

“Is there something else that you want to ask?”

“I was told that everything comes with a price with you,” she said.

Mr Gold sucked in a breath, tutting softly as he shook his head.

"It appears the townsfolk have been telling dark tales of my rapacity," he said, sounding amused. "What concerns you, Miss French?"

“Well - I guess I’m wondering what your price for this is.”

“That would be the rent that I’ll receive from the municipal funds, as you mentioned,” he said mildly, and raised an eyebrow. “Is there a different price that you’d prefer to pay?”

His eyes were glinting at her, gold flecks of reflected light shining on dark irises, and she licked her lips.

“N-no.”

Mr Gold showed his teeth, a gleam of gold on his lower jaw where one had been replaced.

“Excellent,” he said. “In that case, I suggest you make your case to the Mayor. You may tell her that the proposal has my full support.”

“Thank you.”

She took another drink, and there was a moment of silence. He was watching her, eyes dark and unblinking. The thunder rumbled again, and there was a flash of lightning outside the window. Mr Gold gestured towards the front of the shop.

“I’d offer to show you around the library,” he said. “But perhaps we ought to wait until the rain has died down a little.”

“Does that ever happen?” she asked wryly, and he grinned.

“North-eastern seaboard not to your taste, Miss French?”

“Back home it’d probably be in the seventies, and I’d be seeking out the air-con,” she said, and his grin widened.

“So what brings you to Maine, then?”

“Change of scene, I guess,” she sighed. “My mother died. Dad couldn’t bear to stay in our old place after that, and I - I didn’t feel that I could let him be by himself in a strange country while he was grieving, so…”

She shrugged, taking another drink, and he continued to watch her.

“Moving to the other side of the world is a little drastic,” he said, and she raised an eyebrow.

“You ever lose someone you loved?”

He didn’t answer that, but his eyes glittered, and eventually he glanced away.

“So, your father is a florist,” he said. “I hope his business venture is successful. This world could always use a little more beauty in it.”

“I’ll be helping him set up,” she said. “I’m hoping he’ll be able to take someone else on to help out, though. If the Mayor lets me run the library, that is.”

He took a sip of whisky, amber liquid shining in the glass, and she watched as the tip of his tongue swept a stray droplet from his lower lip. It gave her a familiar sensation in the depths of her abdomen, a tightening that she recognised as arousal. The thought made her cheeks heat, and she buried her nose in her glass to hide her blush. When she raised her eyes, though, Mr Gold was smiling a tiny secretive smile, as though he could read her thoughts, and was amused by them.

“I understand that it’s just you and your father living out at the house he rented from me,” he said. “Did no one else travel with you?”

“It’s just us,” she confirmed. “I’m sure if Dad were ever to decide to take in a lodger, he’d have to get you to okay it, right?”

“Is that likely?”

“Not as long as the shop prospers, no.”

“And how likely is that?”

Belle gave him a flat look.

“You ask a lot of questions,” she said, and he grinned again.

“Well, I’m a curious person. Goes with the territory.”

“Landlord?”

“Pawnbroker,” he clarified. “I lend money. Knowing people’s business is an unfortunate but necessary side-effect of that.”

Belle sighed, but nodded in acknowledgement.

“Dad knows the trade well,” she said. “His shop in Melbourne was always profitable. I guess it depends on how well that knowledge transfers to a town in Maine.”

Mr Gold sat back a little.

“And how are you finding our little town?” he asked. “Met anyone interesting?”

“Oh, yes,” she said dryly, and his smile widened as she failed to elaborate.

“Have you inherited your father’s passion for flowers?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“Well, I like them, and I have a reasonable grasp of the business itself, but I don’t think I have his flair,” she said. “I’m fine with the simpler arrangements, but if it’s something like designing table centrepieces for weddings or something - he’s so much better! I won’t be taking on the family business, that’s for sure.”

“Do you have a favourite flower?”

“Sunflowers,” she said immediately. “They always cheer me up. My mother used to bring bunches back to the house with her, and there were always some in the old cream jug she kept on the table.”

She bit her lip, looking down at the whisky swirling in her glass. Memories flooded into her head, the scent of flowers and herbs in their kitchen, the chirp of insects outside and the hiss of the sprinkler watering the flowerbeds. The sound of her mother singing off-key as she sliced oranges for juicing. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she closed them firmly. She had had enough of crying.

“Miss French.”

Mr Gold’s words were soft, gentle, but she started, eyes flicking open. He was watching her with an unreadable expression.

“I’m sorry if my question caused you pain,” he said quietly, but she shook her head.

“No, it’s just - memories, that’s all. Happy memories, which - which now makes them sad memories, I guess.”

“Yes,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Yes, I can understand that.”

She took another drink, almost choking on the whisky, and dashed away a couple of tears. He sipped at his own drink, dark eyes watching her closely, and she turned her glass between her fingertips.

“Do - do you have family?” she asked hesitantly.

“No,” he said abruptly, and set down his own glass before glancing away. “It sounds as though the rain has eased a little. We could try to make a break for it, if you like.”

Curiosity was needling her at his taciturn response, but the thought of a library to explore was an immediate distraction. She drained her glass, licking her lips and beaming at him, and Mr Gold pushed to his feet, gesturing towards the curtain with his free hand. Belle walked through to the shop, noting that the rain was still falling, but seemed lighter.

“Perhaps it was just a shower,” she ventured.

“Perhaps.” He reached behind the counter and retrieved a black umbrella. “I think we’ll take this, though. And the car.”

Mr Gold’s car was an old Cadillac, its black paint and chrome grill shining in the rain, and he held the umbrella over Belle until she was inside before going around to the driver’s side and furling the umbrella. The interior smelled of leather, and she tugged the belt around herself as he got into the seat next to her. She watched the light from the streetlamps shining on the soft sweeps of his hair, and catching the odd silvery fleck of stubble on his cheek. He glanced across at her, eyes dark in the low light, and it made her shiver pleasantly.

“This won’t take long,” he said.

The library wasn’t far from the shop, but Belle was glad to be out of the rain, which, while lighter than it had been, was still falling rapidly. Mr Gold parked up outside the library, and Belle unbuckled her belt. He was staring up at the sky and frowning.

“I thought the storm might be passing us by,” he mused. “But it looks as though another wave will be on us soon. Perhaps we should do this another time.”

“We can make it quick,” said Belle, eager to see the library, now he had agreed to let her reopen it. Mr Gold sucked his teeth.

“I suppose it could be giving us some respite,” he allowed, and got out of the car, walking around to open the door for her.

They had barely made it to the library steps before the rain grew heavier, spraying the umbrella he was holding over their heads and bouncing on the road, silvery droplets jumping upwards with the force of it. Mr Gold unlocked and opened the door, and she ducked inside hurriedly, shoes clicking on the wooden floor. The library had blinds at the windows, and Belle jumped as rain lashed against the glass.

“A very brief respite, it seems,” said Mr Gold, stepping up beside her.

Belle tugged the shawl tighter around herself, the storm outside making her shiver, and looked around. The library was in darkness, racks of shelving looming in the shadows, and she took a step forward, trying to see in the gloom. Mr Gold walked to the left, flicking some switches, and the lights burst into life, sending out a comforting luminescence to make the shadows shrink back. Belle glanced around, noting the numbers of stacks and the old-fashioned circulation desk in polished wood, coated in dust. The floor was dusty too, but she noticed footprints in it, a trail of crisscrossing marks that led from the door to a point in the centre, and no further. She walked to the circulation desk and looked it over, pulling out the drawers to find old library cards, dog-eared and faded. There were ink pads and date stamps, and out of curiosity she picked one up. _October 23, 1998_.

“Has this place really been closed for twenty years?” she asked, holding up the stamp, and Mr Gold shrugged.

“As I said, I imagine you’ll need to restock.”

“Yeah,” she said absently. If the books were decades old, they may not even be holding together.

He had taken a few steps forward, into the centre of the room where the footprints petered out, and was gazing at the wall opposite, a plain expanse of painted white. Belle put down the stamp, skirting the side of the circulation desk and heading for the stacks of books. She ran a finger along the spines, eyes flicking over the titles as she moved further into the stacks. The books were properly ordered, but dusty, and she pulled one from the shelf, a thick, board-backed book of fairytales. Opening it up was a treat, beautiful illustrations in amongst the pages of text, and it looked to be in good shape. She would definitely need to update the collection, though. Modern classics, non-fiction texts, more children’s books, an LGBTQ section…

Lightning flared outside, and thunder crashed, making her jump. The lights went out with a pop, and Belle squeaked, almost dropping the book.

“Are you alright?”

Mr Gold sounded concerned, his voice seeming to echo strangely now that they were in darkness, and she slid the book back onto its shelf, groping her way out of the stacks. She slammed into a warm body, squeaking in alarm as she fell, and landed on top of Mr Gold, driving his breath from his lungs with a low grunt. They were both breathing heavily, and the scent of his cologne was drifting into her nose, spicy and woody. Her heart was thumping hard, her head spinning a little. Perhaps it was the whisky. For a moment she was frozen in place, feeling the heat from him seep into her and the hard length of his cane between her legs, but then the lightning flashed again and she gasped in shock as his features were revealed, the angular planes of his face and the deep shadows of his eyes, watching her.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!”

She scrambled to get up, palms on the wooden floor beside him, pushing herself upright and holding out her hands for him to take. He held onto her with one hand, using the other to push himself up with his cane.

“Are you hurt?” she asked anxiously. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were there.”

“No matter,” he said, sounding almost amused. “Unintended things can happen when the lights go out.”

Belle let go of his hand as soon as he was upright, shuffling back from him on the wooden floor, mortified that she had knocked him over.

“Well, that’s more excitement than I’m used to of an early evening,” he said dryly. “There’s an apartment above the library for the caretaker, but perhaps we ought to look it over when the power’s back on. There are stairs. And furniture. All manner of things for you to fall over.”

“Yes,” said Belle hurriedly. “Yes, we’ll leave that for now, if you don’t mind. Not that I’m thinking of moving in here tomorrow, but—”

“It’s good to keep your options open,” he finished, and she nodded.

“Something like that.”

He was still standing in the middle of the floor, a slender figure with his hands folded over his cane, illuminated by the lightning flashes, purple and blue in the darkness.

“Would you like me to drive you home?”

“Oh, I don’t want to be any trouble,” she said, and he gave her that tiny grin again.

“Beyond dripping water all over my floor, drinking my whisky and knocking me flat on my back? I think I can handle your sort of trouble, Miss French.”

“Right,” she said, still blushing at the memory of lying on top of him. “Right. Well, okay. Thank you.”

He drove her home in near silence, and Belle sat with her hands folded in her lap, the woollen shawl still around her. She realised that she had left her coat at his shop, but she didn’t feel that she could ask him to turn around and get it. Besides, the thing was soaked through. She could pick it up the next day. Mr Gold changed down the gears as the Cadillac slowed and turned into the road where her father had rented their three-bed house. Heavy rain was making the wipers work hard, and the view through the windshield was a fragmented jumble of shapes and shadows and streaks of light from the streetlamps and houses that flanked the road. Mr Gold slowed to a stop outside her father’s house, and turned his head to face her.

“A moment,” he said.

He reached behind for the umbrella, unfurling it as he got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side to open the door. Belle got out hurriedly, grateful for the shelter. The rain was soaking the shoulders of his suit, and she stepped a little closer so the umbrella covered both of them. He walked her up the path and onto the porch, the cane clicking on the wooden slats, and Belle sighed in relief to be in some relative shelter.

“Thank you,” she said, and made to lift the shawl from her shoulders. Mr Gold shook his head.

“Keep it,” he said. “You can return it tomorrow. Assuming the weather improves.”

“I left my coat in your shop,” she said, and he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Then we can make a fair exchange,” he said. “Until tomorrow, Miss French.”

“My name’s Belle,” she blurted.

He mouthed the name, so softly she could barely hear it, soft lips forming the word. Her heart was thumping again, her breath quickening. There was a strange tingling in the air, electricity between them. It felt almost like anticipation, as though this was the end of a date and she was expecting to be kissed. She licked her lips, and his dark eyes flicked briefly to her mouth before returning to meet her gaze.

“Until tomorrow,” he repeated.

He inclined his head before stepping off the porch back into the rain. Water cascaded over the umbrella, and Belle watched as he walked to the car and got in. He met her eyes as he opened the door, and she felt her breath catch before he ducked inside and out of sight.

_Great. I have a crush on the landlord. Great. Absolutely fantastic._


	2. Chapter 2

The storm had passed by the time the next morning dawned, but the skies were still grey and dull, and the air had grown colder. Snow was coming, according to the too-cheerful weatherman on the local news, and Belle shuddered as she ate toast and peanut butter. She felt good, though. There was a spring in her step and a flutter of excitement in her belly at the thought of getting one step closer to opening her very own library. Assuming the Mayor would agree, of course, but now that she had Mr Gold’s permission to use the building, she hoped that would be forthcoming.

Ms Gale looked surprised when Belle told her the news, but smiled warmly.

“I can’t believe he agreed,” she said. “You’re not the first to try, but you’re certainly the first to succeed. Did you like - agree to give him your first born, or something?”

“Nothing that drastic,” said Belle, with a grin. “He definitely wasn’t keen on the idea, but I managed to talk him around. Maybe I played on his sense of community spirit.”

“If he has one, that’s the first I’ve heard of it,” said Ms Gale dryly. “Still, I guess the ‘why’ isn’t important. I’ll get this before Mayor Mills today. If we’re lucky, she could make an initial decision without waiting for the Council meeting. It’s not a huge expense, after all.”

“I - did want to get some funds to buy more books, though,” said Belle, and Ms Gale nodded.

“Yeah, that part might have to wait until the Council meeting, but at least if you get her agreement you can start getting the place ready, right?”

Belle beamed at her, feeling confident.

“Right.”

Belle had to wait most of the day to hear the Mayor’s decision, and the waiting was torture. She helped her father in the shop to take her mind off things, setting up the racks of aluminium shelving he had bought, making up bunches of bright flowers for sale, and watering and feeding the plants that he was growing. It was after four when Ms Gale called to tell her that her proposal had been approved and that she would hold the position of librarian, starting the following Monday. After thanking her politely, putting down the phone and letting out the squeal of excitement she had been desperately holding in, Belle bounced on her toes, glancing around and snatching up her bag before bolting out to head over to Mr Gold’s shop to give him the news.

She entered the pawn shop at a rush, the little bell tinkling above her as she stepped inside. Mr Gold was standing behind the counter, hands poised on the tips of his fingers, as though he had been waiting for her. His suit jacket was off, and she noticed that gold sleeve garters had pushed up the sleeves of his blue silk shirt. A gold chain hung from one of the buttons of his waistcoat and looped down before disappearing into the pocket, and she suspected that it was attached to a watch. Because of course it would be. For a brief moment she entertained the fantasy that he was a time-traveller, a man from the nineteen-hundreds, trapped in the present day and trying to preserve of much of his old existence as he could. The thought made her want to giggle. He had a tiny smile on his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Miss French,” he said pleasantly. “From the absurdly cheerful look on your face I take it the Mayor has agreed to your proposal?”

“Yes!” said Belle, a little breathlessly. “At least - she’s agreed to pay my salary. I haven’t had a decision on whether she’ll give me any funds to restock yet.”

“In that case, it seems congratulations are in order.” He reached to the side, opening up a drawer and holding out a key with a round tag. “Here. I believe this belongs to you.”

She stepped forward, holding out her hand, and he placed the key in her palm. She turned the tab over with her thumb. _Library_ was written on it in a thin, slanting script. A wide grin spread across her face, and she met his eyes.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“The pleasure was all mine."

He was watching her intently, and she could feel herself blushing. She wondered whether he found her as attractive as she found him. Perhaps he had thought about her when he lay in bed the previous night, wondering how it would feel to kiss her, to touch her. To pull her by the hand into that back room and lay her down on the bench, and—

“Was there something else, Miss French?”

His voice made her jump, pulling her out of her brief daydream, and her blush deepened.

“Oh!  Oh, yes…” She reached into her bag for the shawl he had lent her, holding it out to him. “Thank you for this.”

“Ah. And I have your coat.”

He turned and pushed the curtain aside, emerging moments later with her coat in his hand, now dry. Belle took it from him with a nod, and he folded his hands over the cane, flicking back his hair.

“Will you be exploring your new dominion, then?” he asked.

“I’ll be cleaning it,” she said, a little ruefully. “Lot of dust on everything.”

“I could always get one of my teams in to do that, you know.”

“You have - _teams_?” she said neutrally.

“I have people I employ to take care of the more unpleasant aspects of my businesses, yes.”

His voice was soft, almost a caress, but the way he phrased the sentence made him sound as though he ran an organised crime network, and for the first time Belle understood why the rest of the townsfolk seemed leery of him. There was an air of menace about him, steel beneath the silk. She wasn’t afraid, and she didn’t feel that he meant her any ill will, but she could still sense it. A darkness swirling within the seething intensity that he seemed to keep a tight grip on. Passion and rage, buried deep and almost forgotten until he let it burst forth. She wondered how spectacular it was when he lost his temper, and decided that she probably didn’t want to find out.

“That - that won’t be necessary, thank you,” she said. “I’d quite like to go through everything. It’ll feel more like my place then, you know?”

“As you wish.”

“It can wait until tomorrow,” she added. “I’ll look over the apartment as well, see what needs doing.”

“Let me know if there’s anything that requires the services of a tradesman,” he said. “I keep the place as well-maintained as I can, but I daresay they may be some small repairs to be made that I’ve overlooked. I can get someone out to fix them straight away.”

“Another one of your ‘team’?” she asked, amused.

Mr Gold showed his teeth.

“Precisely.”

“Can I paint the walls?” she asked suddenly, and he inclined his head.

“Of course.”

“Great.” She clutched the key in her hand. “Well, in that case, I guess I’ll get out of your hair. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said. “I look forward to seeing what you do with the place.”

Belle grinned, but shifted from foot to foot, feeling a little awkward.

“You want to ask me a question,” he said, and she nodded.

“You - you didn’t want to open it, did you?” she said.

Mr Gold eyed her steadily.

“No.”

“Ms Gale at the Town Hall told me that you turned down like six offers, or something.”

“Seventeen in total,” he said, “although I suspect most of them were before her time.”

“So…” Belle floundered a little. “So - I guess I’m wondering why you decided to say yes to me.”

He hesitated for a moment, and shrugged.

“Because you reminded me that the world turns and time moves on, and that perhaps it was time to move with it,” he said. “That perhaps it doesn’t help to hold onto the past.”

“Right.”  She didn’t understand what he meant, but she supposed it didn’t matter. “Well - I guess I’ll see you around.”

He smiled, a brief twist of his mouth.

“Good day, Miss French.”

* * *

She started early the next morning. Her father had gone to the shop, and she spent a little time collecting together a plastic bucket, all the cleaning materials she thought she’d need and a thick roll of garbage bags. The weather had grown colder, flecks of snow just starting to fall, and she shivered as she locked the house, hurrying into town as quickly as she could.

When she reached the library she dug into her pocket for the key that Mr Gold had given her and unlocked the doors. They opened with a faint squeak, and she pushed them wide, feeling a surge of pride as she entered the library: _her_ library. She set down her bucket of cleaning materials and flicked on the lights, a broad smile spreading across her face as she watched the light gleam faintly on the dust-strewn wooden floor and cast shadows amongst the stacks of books. Her eyes turned towards the circulation desk, and she blinked. On top of the desk sat a large bunch of sunflowers, yellow bursts of colour bright against the dark wood, the blooms wrapped in purple paper and tied with gold ribbon. Belle stepped forward, reaching for the bundle of flowers, fingers stroking the velvet petals. She looked in vain for a card, but had a suspicion where the sunflowers had come from. There was only one other person who had a key to the library, after all. And who knew about her favourite flowers.

She didn’t have a vase, and so she had to make do with a beer glass from the caretaker’s apartment, filled with water. The apartment was small, but looked as though it could be comfortable once it was thoroughly cleaned and the furniture replaced with something new. Not that she was thinking of leaving her father’s place that day, but it made sense to plan ahead. She wanted her independence, after all, and she suspected that rental prices in Storybrooke were somewhat lower than in Melbourne, where she had had no choice but to stay with her father. It had made dating almost impossible. Not that she was thinking about that either, of course. Not much, anyway.

She wrapped the glass with the purple paper, tying it securely with the gold ribbon, and placed the bunch of sunflowers back on the desk, smiling at their cheerful colours. Time to clean the place up.

* * *

By the end of the day she was exhausted, aching from head to toe and covered in grime, but the library and apartment were free from dust and empty of anything that was outdated, broken or too dirty to clean. Belle had seen more spiders than she was comfortable with, but they had scuttled out of her way through cracks in the floorboards and under the skirting, and as far as she was concerned they could stay there. Closing the last empty drawer of the circulation desk, she ran a tired hand over her face, grimacing as it came away smeared with dark grey. She badly needed to shower. She skirted the desk, taking a pile of books that she had already marked for removal and stacking them in a cardboard box. Turning, she caught a glimpse of the bunch of sunflowers out of the corner of her eye. She should thank Mr Gold for sending them. Just as soon as she was clean and looking less like a dust-covered goblin, anyway.

“The place is looking brighter by your presence already.”

His voice, unexpected in the silence, made her jump with a squeak of surprise, and she turned around, heart thumping, to see him standing just inside the door, leaning on his cane.

“Don’t you knock?” she said, aggrieved, and Mr Gold looked around himself, as though her question confused him.

“This is a public space now, is it not?”

“I - yes, of course,” said Belle, feeling awkward. “Sorry, I just - you startled me.”

She was well aware that she was dirty, covered in dust and cobwebs and sticky with sweat, and he was immaculate in his suit. His shirt was deep pink today, and it suited him, the colour warming his skin. He took a step forward.

“I just thought I’d see how you were getting along,” he said. “I see you’ve removed most of the things from the apartment. I can have someone collect and dispose of them.”

“Oh, would you?” She felt herself almost sag in relief. “Thank you! I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with it all.”

“No matter.” He tilted his head to the side. “Are you thinking of living there? I could procure some furniture for you, if so.”

“Yeah, now I’ve looked at the place, I think I’d like to,” she said. “I love my dad, don’t get me wrong, but I really need my own place.”

“One’s privacy is something to be treasured,” he agreed.

“What about you?” she asked. “Do you live alone?”

“With only my own thoughts for company,” he confirmed, with the ghost of a smile. “Not always the most pleasant of roommates.”

“I get that,” she said quietly. “Maybe you should get a cat, or something.”

Mr Gold grinned at that, and took a step towards the stacks, running his eyes over them.

“You’ve removed some of the books, I see.”

“Only the ones that were too damaged, or reference books too out of date,” she said. “I want this to be a useful resource, after all, and it can’t be if people are reading the wrong information.”

“Very true,” he said. “I’d hate to have to chastise you over inaccurate reference texts, after all.”

Her brain took the not unwelcome mental image of what form such chastisement could take, filing it away for later use, and she raised her chin before she could start blushing.

“I’m guessing you’d be all over my history section, am I right?” she asked dryly.

“Well, it’s important to learn from the past,” he said. “I - may have a few books to donate, if you’ll have them.”

“Already learned everything you need from them?” she teased, and he met her eyes.

“I don’t make the same mistake twice,” he said quietly, and she felt her heart thump again, a heavy throb in her chest. She smiled, and took a step towards him.

“Do you want a library card, Mr Gold?”

He ran a long finger across the spines of the books on the shelf in front of him, and glanced around at her.

“Perhaps,” he said. “Have you decided on how you’ll fill the spaces left?”

“Almost,” she admitted. “I made a list of genres and titles off the top of my head, but I’m sure there are more I could think of. I guess it all depends on whether the Mayor will give me a budget for new stock and a computer system to keep the records on.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Belle shrugged.

“Then I’ll be thinking up fundraising ideas.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t know,” she said, a little awkwardly. “Maybe a bake sale or something.”

Mr Gold looked as though he was amused, but trying not to show it.

“Can you bake?”

“Kind of...” she said uncomfortably, and his grin widened.

“Sounds delicious.”

Belle sent him a very level look, and he bit his lip, glancing away before turning back.

“May I see the list?”

“Oh.” She ran a hand through her hair, grimacing as she felt how much dust was in there. “It’s on my laptop.”

“Would you email it to me?” he asked.

"You have email?" she said sceptically, and he showed his teeth.

"Is that so surprising?"

"Actually, yeah."

"I have email," he said, looking deeply amused. "A telephone, a computer. Even, dare I say it, a television."

"A thoroughly modern man."

"I didn't say I watched the thing."

She bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

"Why do you want to see the list?"

“I’m interested in the changes you plan on making here," he said, with a lazy wave of his hand.

Belle put her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow.

“I hope you don’t plan on censoring any of my choices.”

He grinned again, eyes glinting wickedly.

“Now, why on earth would I do that?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know…” She folded her arms. “Sometimes people can be - too close-minded in their outlook, I guess.”

“Well, that’s certainly true,” he agreed. “Though it’s not a description I’ve ever had applied to me. I’m personally hoping that you choose to expand the minds of the town. In every area.”

He was still grinning, and she got the feeling he was being suggestive. It wasn’t helping her burgeoning crush on the man in the slightest.

“Increasing one’s knowledge is an important thing,” he added. “Not just history, or art, or science. Books are a way to explore the world without leaving home, don’t you think?”

“Yes!” she said eagerly. “Yes, that’s it exactly!”

Mr Gold walked slowly amongst the stacks, running his eyes over their contents, his fingertip slipping over the curved spines in a series of soft thumps.

“I remember spending hours in the library back home as a child,” he mused. “Sometimes it was the only place you could keep warm in the depths of winter. I read a great deal. Things I probably shouldn’t have, at times. Tales of far-off lands and bloody battles. Forbidden desires. Love. Lust. Sacrifice.”

“I think maybe we read the same books,” she remarked, and he glanced over at her, his eyes gleaming.

“Perhaps we did.”

“So what’s your favourite thing to read, Mr Gold?” she asked, and a smile flickered to life, sparks lighting up his eyes before dying.

“Happy endings,” he said quietly, and she smiled, wishing that he didn’t look so sad.

“Me too.”

“The list, then,” he said, his voice suddenly brisk, and reached into his pocket, drawing out a card and holding it out to her between the first two fingers of his hand. “You’ll find my email address there. And my number, should you need it.”

“Thank you.” Belle slipped it into her pocket, and hesitated. “And - and thank you for the flowers.”

His eyes flicked towards the desk.

“I thought they’d brighten the place up.”

“Well, they certainly do that,” she said. “I don’t know where you managed to find sunflowers in November. Not at my dad’s shop, that’s for sure.”

“You said they were your favourite,” he said, as though that explained things.

“Yeah.” She glanced behind her, where the flowers sat: bright, warm yellow petals and deep brown centres. “Well, they’re beautiful.”

“Yes.” His hands shifted on his cane. “A ray of sunshine, to chase away winter’s chill.”

Belle smiled.

“I think you have the soul of a poet when it comes to books and flowers, Mr Gold,” she teased.

He smirked.

“Must be why I’m such an utter bastard in every other area of my life.”

Belle giggled, and his grin widened.

“Good day to you, Miss French,” he said. “I look forward to seeing what you intend to grace the shelves of the library with.”

He inclined his head, turning away and heading for the door with a click of his cane against the wooden floor.

“Then you should come to the grand opening,” she called, and he turned slowly back, shoes squeaking faintly on the floor.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m planning a big opening party,” she explained. “Interactive activities, dramatic readings, children’s games. There’ll be food. Maybe even some wine and cheese.”

“A social occasion?” he asked, in a very neutral tone. “Sandwiches and small talk?”

“You make it sound terrifying,” she said dryly.

“I very rarely socialise, Miss French.”

“Well, let this be one of the occasions, then.”

That tiny smile returned, lifting the corners of his mouth.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “But it’s kind of you to ask.”

“Well, I’m still going to send you an invitation,” she said archly, bouncing on her toes. “And if you don’t come, just imagine what the rest of the town will be saying about you behind your back.”

The smile became a grin.

“Oh, I don’t have to imagine that,” he said. “But perhaps I’ll consider attending. _After_ I see the list of books.”

“It’s a date,” said Belle, and clapped a hand to her mouth, her eyes widening. “I mean - a deal! It’s a deal!”

His teeth were very white, his eyes glinting with amusement, and she could feel herself blushing again.

“The deal is struck.”

* * *

Belle spent the next day finishing the last few bits of cleaning and overseeing the clearing out of the old furniture and books. The men that Mr Gold sent were all short, stocky, and unfailingly polite, and she had little to do except hold open doors and tell them what was to be taken. The library looked different in the light of day, clean and with none of the clutter of its twenty years of closure. She had emailed Mr Gold the list of books she wanted to purchase, and he had replied to say that he had ordered some furniture for the apartment, and that if she wished to rent it, she would need to sign a tenancy agreement. She emailed him back to agree, thumb flickering over the screen of her phone as she walked to the diner. It was after six, and already dark, but Ruby had sent her a text inviting her to Granny’s for a couple of drinks with the plan of moving on to a bar, and after two days of hard physical work she was ready to let her hair down a little.

The rain was falling, a thin drizzle soaking her face as she crossed the street, and she ducked into the diner with relief, smiling as she spotted Ruby waving to her from one of the booths. Ruby was beaming, lips painted bright red to match the streaks in her hair, a tight red shirt above leather pants. Seated beside her was Ms Gale, in a blue and brown plaid shirt above dark jeans and heeled boots, one hand resting casually on Ruby’s thigh. A bag of chips sat open on the table in front of them, their glasses empty, and Belle slid into the seat opposite.

“Oh good, you came!” said Ruby. “Belle French, meet Dorothy Gale, my girlfriend.”

“We’ve met,” said Dorothy, raising her glass. “The woman who finally convinced Gold to re-open the library. What are you drinking?

“Oh - gin and tonic,” said Belle. “Thanks, I’ll get you one later.”

“Sounds good.” Dorothy patted Ruby’s leg. “Same again?”

“God, yes!” Ruby turned to kiss her, smiling as she did it, and handed over her empty glass. “Tell Granny not to be so mean with the rum this time!”

“ _You_ tell her,” said Dorothy dryly, and Ruby giggled as she walked off to the bar.

Belle shrugged off her coat, the heat of the diner seeping into her.

“Dorothy was really helpful,” she said. “I don’t think I’d have known how the hell to get the library open again if she hadn’t given me some pointers.”

“Yeah, she’s awesome,” said Ruby, looking over at the bar with a grin on her face. “You ever look at someone and think _‘Oh. So, it’s gonna be you, huh?’_ before you even really talk?”

Belle bit back a smile.

“Maybe.”

“Yeah, that’s how it was for us,” said Ruby, with a sigh. “Valentine’s Day at _The Rabbit Hole_ , both of us dateless and depressed…  I threw a drink over her by accident because I wasn’t looking where I was going, and when our eyes met… well.” She sat back with a satisfied smirk. “Guess it was fate.”

“How long have you been together?” asked Belle.

“Getting on for eighteen months,” said Ruby happily. “We’re saving up to get our own place. Not that there’s much free real estate around here, but we can still try.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait to move out of my dad’s place,” said Belle wryly. “I love him, don’t get me wrong, but I miss having my own space. Since I moved back after being away at university, I realised how bloody _stifling_ it is, and - yeah, I - I really need to move out.”

“Any thoughts on where?”

“There’s an apartment above the library, actually,” said Belle. “I’ve already talked to Mr Gold about renting it.”

Ruby grinned at her, leaning on the table on her elbows, eyebrows twitching suggestively.

“So, you managed to talk your way around Gold about the library, huh?” she said. “He make you sign away your soul, or was it something _way_ dirtier?”

Belle gave her a level look, which made Ruby’s grin widen.

“He’s really not that bad, you know,” said Belle. “He was really interested in the library, and the books I was planning on buying. I mean - okay, he doesn’t strike me as the world’s most sociable person, but he seems fair, at least.”

“Hmm.” Ruby reached into the open bag of chips in front of her, watching Belle. “Give me your first impressions of him. I’m interested.”

“First impressions?” Belle tried not to blush as she remembered that one of her first impressions had been how much the sound of his voice and the glint in his eyes turned her on. “Uh - well, I guess he seemed polite? Good manners, very well dressed, like he spends a lot of time picking outfits so everything’s just so. Fastidious, I guess. Like everything he wears is perfect and his shop is spotless and he has these long fingers that he handles things really carefully with—”

Ruby was staring at her, but she couldn’t seem to stop talking.

“—and everything he does is so _deliberate_ ,” she went on, “like the movements he makes and the way he gestures, and he looks at you and it’s like he can see into your _soul_ , or something.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” said Ruby, leaning forward, eyes wide. “You _like_ him!”

“I didn’t say _that_!” protested Belle, blushing fiercely.

“Didn’t say what?” Dorothy set a glass in front of her, and she snatched it up hurriedly, stirring ice cubes with a straw.

“Belle wants to bang Mr Gold until he can’t walk even with that cane of his,” said Ruby offhandedly, and Dorothy giggled.

“Seriously?” she said, and pulled a face as she slid onto the seat next to Ruby. “Well, I’m probably not the best judge when it comes to guys, but you gotta admit the man can wear a suit.”

“Agreed,” said Ruby, passing over the bag of chips.

Dorothy took some, pushing them into her mouth and crunching on them.

“Probably into some kinky shit, though,” she said, licking salt from her fingers and reaching for her glass. “Looks like he has a sex dungeon and gets off on spanking.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” said Ruby, and they both snickered.

“Ooo-kay, so I’ll be getting so drunk I don’t remember any of this conversation, then,” said Belle lightly, poking at the ice in her gin and tonic, and the others chuckled.

“Sorry for teasing,” said Ruby, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “It’s just - well, as long as I’ve known him, Gold’s always been alone. Bitter, closed off, unsociable - that seems to be his thing. The idea of him actually attracting someone—”

“—a young, sweet - may we say it - _hot_ someone—” added Dorothy.

“Yeah, it’s just a little weird to think about, that’s all,” said Ruby, wrinkling her nose. “Maybe you’ll understand why when you get to know him.”

Belle took a slurp of her gin.

“You know him well, then?” she said, and Ruby shrugged.

“I guess so. As well as anyone in this town, that is. He’s in the diner a lot.”

“Uh-huh.” Belle took another drink. “So, what’s his first name?”

Ruby opened and closed her mouth, and Belle gave her a knowing smile.

“Does he have family?“ she went on. “How did he end up moving over here from Scotland? What’s his favourite food to cook?”

“You _know_ all that?” asked Ruby, round-eyed, and Belle shook her head.

“That was gonna be my next line of conversation,” she admitted. “Okay, he already told me he doesn’t have family, but everyone has someone, right?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Ruby. “Maybe he doesn’t talk to them anymore. He’s always on his own, I can tell you that. He comes into the diner most mornings for coffee. And he collects the rent, of course. Polite, like you say, but not exactly friendly.”

“Seems to be friendly enough with Belle,” said Dorothy, with a grin. “Agreeing to reopen the library, when he told everyone else to go fuck themselves…”

“Yeah, how _did_ you get him to do that?” asked Ruby curiously, and Belle shrugged.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “He didn’t seem keen when I first mentioned it, but I talked about the things I wanted to do, the benefit it would bring to the town, and eventually he just seemed to come around.”

“Remind me to give you a call next time we’re struggling to make rent,” remarked Dorothy.

Belle giggled, and took another drink, setting down her glass and looking between the two of them.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, since he didn’t want to talk about it,” she said. “What was the reason the place was closed down?”

Ruby and Dorothy looked at one another, each pulling bemused faces.

“Before my time, I guess,” said Dorothy.

“Mine too,” said Ruby. “I mean, I could ask Granny…”

“He said it was twenty years ago,” added Belle, and the two women shrugged in unison.

“Granny wasn’t even here then,” said Ruby. “She moved out here with me after my parents died. Pretty sure that was less than twenty years ago. I was pretty young.”

“Huh.” Belle took a sip of her drink. “Guess I’ll have to find out some other way.”

“You could check the _Storybrooke Mirror_ ,” suggested Dorothy, reaching for the chips again. “I worked there for six months or so before I got the Town Hall job. There’s old stuff on microfiche that no one’s looked at in years. Could be something there.”

“Right.” Belle pursed her lips, thinking it over. ”Maybe I’ll take a look.”

Ruby took a slurp of her drink, setting down the glass.

“So, what’s the apartment like?” she asked.

“It’s a one-bed, but I think it could be cosy with a little effort,” said Belle. “Mr Gold says he’ll get some furniture for the place.”

“Well, if you need some help with assembly or carrying shit, I can help out,” offered Ruby.

“Thanks,” said Belle, and reached for her drink again. “It’s gonna be so cool having my own place. Can’t wait to make it mine. Bookshelves, some cushions, maybe a few pictures...”

“Get some things from Gold’s shop,” suggested Dorothy. “It’ll make him feel more at home when you eventually get his pants off.”

Ruby giggled, and Belle blushed before joining in.

“Thanks for the encouragement,” she said dryly, and Ruby raised her glass.

“We fully support you in your plan to seduce the menacing, shady-as-hell, yet sharply-dressed pawnbroker twice your age,” she announced, and Dorothy clinked the glass with her own.

“Go get that skinny ass,” she added, and Belle groaned, covering her face with her hands.

“Look, I can’t even think about that right now,” she said. “I have a library opening to plan. Which means I need to use what little cash I have to buy cupcakes and wine and cheese and kids’ party food between now and the end of the month.”

“You’re opening then?” asked Ruby, with interest.

“If the Mayor agrees to fund the new stock of books, yes,” said Belle. “If not, I’m gonna be planning a fundraiser.”

“You should hear next Thursday at the meeting,” said Dorothy. “We’ll keep everything crossed for you, won’t we Rubes?”

“Damn straight,” said Ruby, with a nod. “And just in case you don’t get lucky, I have a few - interesting - ideas for the fundraiser.”

She grinned wickedly, waggling her eyebrows, and Belle groaned.

“Yeah, your expression doesn’t fill me with confidence,” she said.

“Please don’t tell me you’re gonna suggest a kissing booth again,” said Dorothy wearily, and Ruby’s eyes went wide with innocence.

“The thought never crossed my mind.”

* * *

Belle had to go back to Mr Gold’s shop to sign the rental contract and pay over the rent and a deposit, which she had borrowed from her father against her first month’s wages. Mr Gold watched her as she read over the contract, and produced a black and gold pen from inside his suit jacket so that she could sign her name. He wrote an entry in a heavy ledger to mark the payment of the deposit and first month’s rent. She watched his hand move across the page, and he glanced up as he set down the pen, giving her a tiny smile, his eyes dark with something like promise. It felt as though she had signed the most important contract of her life, as though she were somehow making a deal for her soul with the Devil himself. Whether she was saving it or giving it away was, as yet, unclear, but the glitter in his eyes made her heart pound. Mr Gold closed the ledger with a heavy thump, fingers shifting along its sides until it was perfectly aligned with the edge of the counter.

“The furniture I ordered should arrive tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll have some of my men take it up for you and assemble it.”

“Thank you,” she said, a little breathlessly, and his smile widened a little.

“And your own things?” he asked. “Will you need assistance with those?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t have much,” she said. “Ruby’s gonna help me move in.”

“Very well.”

He reached to the side, to a carved wooden cupboard, and opened it up, reaching inside and turning back to face her. A key dangled from a round fob held between finger and thumb.

“I replaced the locks on the apartment door,” he said. “Here.”

She reached out to take it, tucking the fob into her palm and feeling the warmth of him on the smooth plastic.

“Thank you,” she said. “I - uh - I should go.”

“Of course.”

He leaned on the counter, still smiling at her, and she could feel her abdomen pull and tighten. She turned away, clutching the key hard in her palm, feeling breathless as she made her way to the exit. His eyes were on her back as she left, and when the door closed behind her it was as though she had been swimming up from the dark depths of a warm lake, and could suddenly breathe again.

* * *

It was two days later that the furniture for her apartment arrived, and the same short, burly men that had gotten rid of the old items carried it up for her, whistling a tune as they did so. She had told her father she was moving out, and he had grunted at her, slumped in front of the TV with a glass of rum in his hand, as was his usual state in the evenings. It was the way he had dealt with things even before her mother had died, and if she was completely honest with herself, she wasn’t sorry to be going. She had packed her things: clothing, books, and the few pieces of personal furniture she wanted to take, and the next day Ruby bounced up on the doorstep with a beaming smile, red-streaked hair fluttering in the winter breeze.

“Thought I’d give you a hand,” she said, gesturing to the driveway, where a red car was parked.  “Wow, are all those books? Don’t you already have a library-full?”

She was grinning, and Belle gave her a level look, handing over the first of the boxes.

“Private collection and not for public use,” she said sternly, and Ruby giggled.

“You have the strict librarian thing down already,” she said. “Maybe think about getting some glasses so you can look over them when people are talking too loud.”

It didn’t take too long to fill the car with boxes, two suitcases of clothes and an old coat stand, and Belle decided to come back for the rest later that day. Getting the boxes of books up to the apartment left them out of breath, but maneuvering the coat stand through the door of the library was more awkward.

“I’m not sure we’ll get it up the staircase,” said Ruby, huffing a little under the strain. “How do you feel about hanging all your coats down here?”

“We just need to turn it,” said Belle impatiently, swinging her end around to the left with more force than she had aimed for.

There was a crunching noise, and she groaned, already fearing what she’d find. Glancing over her shoulder revealed one leg of the coat stand, stuck in the drywall. Belle swore under her breath, tugging the thing free with a shower of plaster and leaving a large hole.

“Oops,” said Ruby ominously.

“Yeah.”  Belle bit her lip, setting the coat stand down. “It’s not too much damage, right? I could fill this in, repaint…”

“It’s a hole three inches across,” remarked Ruby. “I think it’s gonna take more than a little filler and a lick of paint.”

“You wouldn’t have thought it would have gone that deep,” grumbled Belle. “Isn’t this supposed to be a wall?”

Ruby stepped forward, bending to gaze at the hole.

“That’s hollow,” she said curiously.

“What?”

“Behind the drywall. There’s a space back there. Here.”

She dug in her pocket for her phone, bringing up the flashlight app and shining it on the gap.

“There’s something back there,” she said excitedly.

“Let me see.”

Belle crouched down to peer through the gap. The light from Ruby’s phone gleamed on something; reddish-brown wood with what looked like brass fittings.

“I - I don’t know if it’s a door, or something,” she said vaguely. “I can’t see.”

“Let me look a second.”

Belle leaned back, and Ruby glanced around the room before shoving her entire fist into the hole, opening it up.

_“Ruby!”_

“Oh, come on, you wanted to know just as much as I did!”

“I’m probably gonna have to pay for that!”

“Yeah, maybe Gold’ll give you a tongue-lashing,” said Ruby dismissively. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“Oh my God…”

“Just have a look, would you?” said Ruby impatiently, brushing streaks of plaster from her hand.

Belle sighed, but held up the phone. The hole made by Ruby’s fist was large enough to see through. A wooden door, set with brass fittings and a series of large cogs.

“It - it looks like a door,” said Belle. “Works with some kind of mechanism, like cogs and pulleys, or something.”

“Let me see.” Ruby took her place, peering through the hole. “Huh. Kind of steampunk. Hey, do you think it’s an elevator?”

“If it is, it doesn’t go up to my apartment,” said Belle, and Ruby shook her head.

“Not going up,” she said. “Going down.”

“A basement?” Belle pulled a face. “Mr Gold didn’t mention one, and I didn’t see a door to it, or anything.”

“So ask him.”

“What, before or after I tell him I busted a hole in his wall?”

“Come on, what harm can it do?”

“Fine,” sighed Belle. “At least let’s get the rest of my stuff. That way if he murders me you guys can build a shrine in my honour in the classics section.”

Ruby chuckled, and picked up a suitcase.

“Hey, is there gonna be an erotica section?” she asked, with interest.

“Planning on one,” said Belle. “Depends if I can get funding for the new books.”

“There’s always my kissing booth idea…”

“Yeah,” said Belle, in a very dry tone. “I’m - probably not gonna be doing that.”

“Suit yourself,” said Ruby airily. “Just saying that there’s someone in town you wanna kiss, and rumour has it he has a rather large - checking account.”

Belle sighed, rolling her eyes and stomping off in the direction of the stairs, and Ruby’s cackle followed her up.

* * *

She knew that she had to own up to Mr Gold about the damage, and she figured sooner was better than later. The man had a habit of turning up when he wasn’t expected, and she didn’t want the hole in the wall to be a surprise. She waited until Ruby had gone to work her shift at the diner before heading to his shop, and Mr Gold looked up from the counter, his rent ledger open in front of him.

“Miss French,” he said, with a tiny smile. “Are you all settled in?”

“Pretty much,” she said. “I have to unpack, but - yeah.  I’m an independent woman. How about that?”

“Well, I hope you’ll be very happy there,” he said, turning his attention back to his ledger. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need."

“Thanks.”

There was a moment of silence, and she stepped a little closer, watching the light gleam on his hair.

“So - there’s an elevator in the library,” she said.

Mr Gold stilled, pen hovering above the ledger.

“What?”

“An elevator,” she said. “At least, I think that’s what it looks like. I’m sorry to say I had a bit of an accident. Knocked a hole in the drywall. I’ll pay for the damage, I _swear_.”

Mr Gold set down his pen, not looking at her. He turned away, shoulders stiff, and pushed at the curtain separating the back room from the shop. Brow crinkling, Belle followed him.

“So, am I right?” she asked. “There’s an elevator there? Where does it go? How come it’s walled off.”

He was standing stock still, his back to her, and she bounced on her toes as she waited for him to answer.

“Apologies, Miss French,” he said quietly. “I just remembered something very urgent that I have to do. I’m afraid I’m closing up early today.”

“I - what?” She was perplexed. “But - the elevator? I’m right, aren’t I? How come it’s not working? I don’t understand.”

“That’s not something I care to discuss,” he said sharply. “Now, if you don’t mind?”

“Mr Gold, I—”

“Please!” he snapped. “Miss French, I’d like you to leave!”

She took a step back, snapping her mouth shut, feeling hurt and awkward.

“Right,” she said softly. “Right. Okay. I’ll - I guess I’ll see you.”

She backed away, letting the curtain fall across and hide him from her sight. The shop was silent but for the low ticking of clocks, a reminder of the passing of time, of the years that had passed since the elevator was walled up and hidden from view. She wondered what secrets had been buried with it, and recalled Dorothy’s suggestion that she visit the local paper. Perhaps there would be answers there.

The newspaper did indeed have old microfiche available to view, just as Dorothy had said, but the young man who showed her to the small, windowless room to look through them merely shrugged when Belle asked why the library had come to be closed. She sat down with microfiche from 1998, flicking through stories of town festivals, cookouts and Little League games, and as the articles moved from September into October, reports of storm damage to the Town Hall. The storm had been a large one, it seemed, but she couldn’t find anything to say that the library had suffered any damage. She flicked to the next page, and flicked on again before going back, something familiar tickling at her mind.

Belle frowned, looking over the picture in front of her, its sign reading _Pawnbroker and Antiquities Dealer_.  Mr Gold’s shop looked much as it did now, albeit with a lighter hue of paint on the clapboard frontage, the blinds drawn and a sign in the window saying _Out of Business_. Her mouth flattened at that; what had happened to cause him to close the shop?  Perhaps it wasn’t the most profitable area of his business, but even so… She concentrated on the text below the picture. _Local property developer and antiquities dealer, Mr Gold, closed his business without warning yesterday, following the reports of a tragic accident at the Storybrooke Public Library. Your_ Storybrooke Mirror _reporter tried to reach the businessman for comment, but was told by his softly-spoken yet intimidating assistant that he was unavailable until further notice. Anyone wishing to redeem pawned items should submit their claims in writing to the shop and their queries will be addressed._

Curious, Belle turned the page backwards, trying to find an earlier edition, and her mouth fell open as she saw a picture of the library on what would have been the front page of the newspaper. _Children’s Outing Ends in Tragedy_ it proclaimed. Belle leaned closer, eyes running over the words in front of her. _A group of children left Storybrooke Library in tears yesterday as one of their own suffered a tragic accident. Baeden Gold, aged 3…_

Belle straightened up, breath catching. _Baeden Gold_.  

She shook her head, bending closer to read the rest of the article. The elevator had been out of use, down in the deep basement awaiting repairs, and the doors had been closed. Unfortunately, the elevator was not electric, and the doors could be opened by anyone who knew how to work the mechanism. It wasn’t known who had opened them - the Sheriff was said to be investigating - but the result was an open elevator shaft down which a small boy had tumbled to his death. Belle bit her lip. So. The reason for the library’s closure, and Mr Gold’s refusal to open it since. She wondered what had made him finally agree to her proposal.

She sat back in her chair, chewing her lip, her mind troubled. It had happened twenty years ago, and yet no one spoke of it, least of all Mr Gold. She wondered if he had wanted it that way, if he had walled off his pain with plaster and paint and tried to forget it had ever happened. As if he ever could.


	3. Chapter 3

Belle was subdued after her discovery of Gold's past, and the reason for the library closure, and tried to distract herself with work.  She spent the rest of the day putting everything she owned on shelves and in drawers, purchasing kitchen items and cleaning products, and putting the finishing touches to her new home. The sunflowers that Gold had bought her were still in reasonable condition, and she bought a cheap glass vase in place of the beer glass they had been sitting in. They lent a cheerful air to the lounge when she placed them on the table, and Belle glanced around as she drank a glass of wine, trying to visualise what colours would go best on the walls of her new home.

Her first night’s sleep was somewhat restless, the new place with its unfamiliar noises and thicker curtains a little hard to get used to, but she still woke early, determined to go for a run to blow away the cobwebs of the past few days. She pulled on tights and a windproof top over her sports bra, cramming a hat down over her head and snatching up a pair of gloves. The beeping sound of a reversing truck was coming in through the window, harsh and strident, and she shot it a frown before making her way downstairs and into the library. A hammering on the doors made her blink.

She was greeted with a dismissive nod by the man outside, a bright orange vest over his jacket.

“Miss French?” he asked, and barely waited for her confirmation before turning to beckon over his shoulder.

Belle stepped back as a man wheeled a trolley in, stacked with boxes.

“What’s this?” she asked curiously.

“Sign here,” said the first man, shoving a clipboard at her as the second began unloading the boxes onto the wooden floor with heavy thumps.

“But - but I didn’t order anything,” protested Belle, and the man sighed and took back the clipboard, squinting at it as his colleague took the trolley back outside.

“Miss French, Storybrooke Public Library,” he said patiently, as though she was stupid. “That’s you, right?”

“Yes, but—”

Belle’s eyes widened as the second man came in with another load of boxes.

“Ten boxes, as requested,” said the first man. “And they’re fucking heavy. Sign here to say you had ‘em, will ya?”

Glaring at him, Belle counted the boxes and signed the delivery note he gave her. The two men slipped out again, and she was left with two uneven piles of cardboard boxes. She sighed to herself, and used her keys to score the tape on one of them to open it up. The contents made her blink. Books. Dozens of books. Moreover, all titles that she had wanted, that had been on the list that she sent to Mr Gold.

Breathless with excitement, she started going through them, ripping open the boxes and handling each book with reverence before setting it aside, making a mental note of its future place on the racks of shelves. There were more books here than she had listed, and she was intrigued to see individual Shakespeare plays and classic novels in amongst weightier tomes on ancient and modern history and science. The last box contained children’s books, brightly-coloured and cheerful, and Belle had to swallow past the lump in her throat. Her library could open, with no half-measures or begging for donations. She could share the wonder of reading with young and old, run her after-school sessions, hold her weekly book club meetings. She could do it all.

She scrambled to her feet, almost bursting with happiness, and almost sprinted from the library and down the street. There was someone she needed to thank.

Mr Gold had only just opened, she suspected, and he was busy setting out the pieces of jewellery that he must have kept in the safe overnight; bright pieces glittering with gold and jewels perfectly placed on black velvet. He glanced around as the bell tinkled, a look of surprise on his face as Belle rushed up to him.

“Thank you!” she said breathlessly. “For - for the books! I - I can’t believe it!”

The side of his mouth drew up a little, an almost-smile, and he turned to face her, one hand on the cane.

“They’ve arrived then,” he said. “And is it everything you wanted?”

“Well, I - I haven’t looked at everything yet, but it's even more than I hoped to get!” She bounced on her toes in excitement. “This means I can open straight away! I can just plan the opening with no fundraiser and avoid the horrors of Ruby’s kissing booth!”

“What?” he asked, perplexed, and she shook her head with a giggle.

“Nothing. My point is, you’ve pretty much made my job five times easier and I could bloody well kiss you!”

Mr Gold raised an eyebrow, his lips parting slightly, and Belle clapped a hand to her mouth.

“I - I mean—”

“I understand, Miss French,” he said gently. “Figure of speech.”

His eyes were glinting, and she wanted to kiss him, to fling herself on him and feel his mouth on hers and run her hands over his body. To find out what he kept beneath his layers of fine wool and silk and feel the heat of his skin against hers. She dragged her mind out of the gutter, focusing on his face. He was still smiling at her, a warm light in his eyes, tinged with that sadness that seemed ever-present. Hardly surprising, she supposed. The man had lost his son. Two decades ago, but it had clearly cut him deep. Her heart swelled with sympathy for him, and she felt a burning need to tell him what she knew, to share his burden. To offer comfort, if she could.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I - I know what happened.”

Gold looked confused, brows drawing down a little as his lips pursed.

“What do you mean?”

“To - to your son,” she explained.

His face went suddenly blank, his eyes flat and emotionless.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I guess - I guess I get why you didn’t want to talk about it. Why you wanted to forget about it, and - and I’m sorry that I’m so bloody clumsy I managed to drag it all to the surface again.”

Gold was silent, his features still with that terrible empty expression, and she fidgeted uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot.

“Anyway, other than thanking you for the books, that’s - that’s all I came over to say,” she said. “I’ll look into getting the hole repaired, and - and I’ll never mention it again, okay?”

He was still standing stock still, watching her with that bitter, closed-off look, and on impulse she stepped forward, rose up on her toes, and kissed his cheek. His skin was smooth, just a hint of new stubble scraping her lips, and he smelt good, of expensive cologne, of wood and spice and musk. He let out a tiny, surprised gasp, as though he had been holding his breath for far too long, and she stepped back immediately.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She turned away, sneakers padding on the wooden floor, her heart hammering in her chest and the taste of his skin still on her lips.

“His name was Bae,” said Gold, from behind her.

She froze, turning to face him. He was watching her, fingers twitching on the cane handle, his expression one of awkwardness, of sorrow.

“He was my son, and I lost him,” he said. “I took my eye off him for two minutes and he was gone. The best, the most beautiful thing I ever did with my long, miserable life, and he was gone.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly, and he shrugged, glancing away.

“I couldn’t bear to keep the place open after that,” he went on. “I closed the library, closed my business, had my men put drywall over the elevator. Painted over it like that would somehow erase the pain. Didn’t work.”

Belle nodded, taking a step towards him.

“How long were you out of business for?” she asked, and he sighed.

“Oh, only three months or so,” he said. “Long enough to realise that days spent weeping alone wasn’t gonna bring him back, and that I ought to find something else to do to fill the endless hours. Work - well, it really helped. I’ve barely stopped since.”

She noticed that his accent had thickened, grown heavy with emotion. How could the townsfolk think him unfeeling? The man was a boiling, seething mass of emotion, locked up tight in his small frame. The tiny tic under his eye betrayed his pain, and she took a step closer.

“I guess I understand now why you didn’t want to reopen the library,” she said softly.

“Yes.”

His voice was a whisper, and she smiled sadly.

“What made you change your mind?”

“I thought—” He cut off, glancing away. “I thought perhaps it was time. A fresh start. Honouring his memory, rather than trying to bury it. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” she said. “I’m sorry if I caused you pain.”

“Don’t be,” he said abruptly. “As I said. It’s time. Bae was - the one light in my life. I’ve been in the shadows too long.”

He smiled at her, inclining his head, and turned away.

“I’ll have someone come to fix the wall,” he added. “Good day, Miss French.”

She watched him head to the back room, his limp seeming more pronounced, his tread weary, and wished she could help him. Wished she could give him comfort.

* * *

Belle woke early on the day of the opening, sitting upright in bed with her heart thumping as she realised how much she had to do.  She was down in the library by seven a.m., and spent most of the morning dusting the place, ensuring all the books were filed correctly, and preparing the children’s activities. Midday came all too quickly, and she felt like panicking as she realised the grand opening was in two hours. Luckily Ruby was on hand to help her carry the food and drink to the library, set up the trestle tables borrowed from Granny and pour paper cups of lemonade for the kids, and glasses of fruit punch and wine for the adults.

“What if no one comes?” fretted Belle, and Ruby sighed, pulling plastic wrap off another tray of sandwiches.

“People will come,” she said gently. “Free food and drink and something for the kids to do on a rainy Saturday? Are you kidding me?”

“I just - I want people to sign up, to start checking out books,” said Belle. “What if no one does?”

“Then I’ll beat them over the head until they do,” said Ruby lightly. “Belle, please. Stop stressing out. It’s gonna be great. Look, I can be the first sign-up for your book club.”

She crossed to the table holding sign-up sheets for the book club, and firmly wrote her name at the top of the list.

“There,” she said. “Do me a favour and pick something with good smutty scenes in it, okay? Or make it gay. Or both.”

Belle giggled.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Ruby turned out to be correct. People started arriving even before the event started, and Belle found herself almost overwhelmed with requests for library cards and people wanting to borrow books. Ruby and Dorothy helped with the kids’ activities, Dorothy displaying a talent for reading stories in a variety of amusing voices, and Belle rushed from table to table, setting out fresh cups of juice and punch, clearing discarded paper plates, answering questions about the book clubs she was running and assuring several parents that the children’s book clubs would have ‘age-appropriate’ reading material. The library was filled with a wonderful energy, and the only thing that prevented it from being absolutely perfect was the absence of one person.

Belle had looked in vain for Gold since the event had started, but judging from the size of the crowd, he was one of the few people in Storybrooke who had decided not to come, and she couldn’t help feeling disappointed. She supposed she shouldn’t be, given his terrible memories of the place, but he had said he wanted a fresh start. Clearly that didn’t include attending the library opening.

It was nearing six o’clock by the time the last few stragglers left, and Belle collapsed onto a chair with a heavy sigh. Dorothy and Ruby followed suit, Ruby sliding onto Dorothy’s lap and wrapping her arms around her.

“Thanks so, so much, you guys,” said Belle tiredly. “I could never have done that by myself.”

“Hey, it was worth it,” said Ruby. “You got a bunch of sign-ups, and the kids loved it.”

“Plus, we had fun,” added Dorothy, hugging Ruby closer.

“Yeah, well I owe you each like a dozen drinks,” said Belle.

“Ooh! Time to celebrate!” said Ruby excitedly. “Rabbit Hole! Who’s with me?”

“My mind says yes, but my feet say no bloody way,” said Belle wryly. “You guys go. I’ll clear up. We’ll do the drinks thing next week.”

“You sure?” asked Dorothy. “We could help out.”

Belle shook her head, pushing to her feet, which screamed in protest.

“It’s cool. There’s not much to do. You two go have a good time. And thanks. I mean it.”

“Okay.” Ruby bounced up, holding out a hand to Dorothy. “Come on, babe. First round’s on me.”

Dorothy sighed, but nodded, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. They took it in turns to hug Belle before shuffling out, and she watched them go, smiling to herself, before turning to clear away the discarded paper cups. She filled a garbage bag with scraps of food, paper plates and used napkins, and tied the top before setting it against the wall.

“It appears things went well.”

Gold’s voice made her jump, and she turned to face the door. He was standing with his hands folded over the cane handle, giving her his tiny, twisted smile. His shirt was the colour of blood, the silk thread gleaming in the light.

“You didn’t come,” she said, almost accusingly, and he shrugged.

“Not one for crowds, Miss French,” he said. “I’m sure the event was a great success, though.”

“Well - I think so,” she said, stepping forward. “The children seemed enthusiastic, and I got a lot of sign-ups for my book club from the adults.”

“And what will you make them read?” he asked, and she pouted.

“Well, maybe if you signed up too, you’d find out.”

Mr Gold laughed softly.

“You expect me to exchange meaningless pleasantries with the residents of this town, most of whom despise me? I think not.”

“We could always work something else out,” she said, feeling bold. “Maybe you and I could make our own book club and read something scandalous. Two misfits together.”

“Is that what we are?”

He stepped forward, the cane tapping on the floor.

“I don’t know…” Belle shrugged, a little uncomfortably. “I’ve - I’ve never really fitted in, you know?  Maybe that’s why I love stories so much. They were always a way to escape. To imagine myself as someone else. Someone - better.”

Gold took a step closer.

“You think you need to be better?” he asked quietly. “How do you think people see you, Miss French?”

“Oh…” She shifted from foot to foot. “I can tell you some of the things I’ve been told by guys, if you like. Daydreamer, smart-ass, too independent, too into books, rambles about boring crap no one cares about, doesn’t give nice guys a chance…”

“I’m sensing a very irritating pattern of misogyny here,” he remarked, and she smiled somewhat ruefully.

“The last guy that asked me out actually told me girls should either be hot _or_ clever, not both,” she said. “I still have no idea which he thought I was.”

Gold laughed softly.

“Men are witless fools.”

“Present company excepted,” she said, and he shook his head

“I was including myself in that description,” he said dryly, “but I certainly would never want a woman to hide her intelligence to make me feel less inadequate.”

Belle smiled, and put her head to the side.

“So how do you see me, Mr Gold?” she asked.

He was silent for a moment, fingers opening and closing on the handle of his cane, and he shifted his feet a little, shaking his hair back.

“I see one who’s been - damaged - by life,” he said quietly.

“Like you?” she said softly, and he shook his head.

“No,” he said, with a wry smile. “Not like me. One who has the strength of character to not let it make them bitter. One who wears her heart on her sleeve, who gives her all to those she loves. A beacon of light in the darkness.”

Belle realised that her mouth had fallen open, and she snapped it shut, her eyes wide.

“That’s - that’s what you think of me?” she whispered, and his mouth twitched.

“Yes.”

His voice was a soft rasp, a cat’s tongue against bare skin, and she felt her abdomen clench as he met her gaze, as he seemed to see through to the heart of her.

“Why did you come?” she breathed.

“Because I wanted to see you. Alone.”

Belle took a step forward.

“Why?”

He was silent for a moment, looking at her, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“I think you know,” he said softly. “But ask me to leave, and I will.”

Belle shook her head.

“I don’t want you to leave,” she whispered.

“Then what do you want?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

She took another step towards him, close enough to touch, the scent of his cologne drifting into her nose. _Do the brave thing, Belle._

“I want—” She swallowed hard, and raised her chin.  “I want you to kiss me.”

His breathing had quickened, his chest rising and falling beneath the silk shirt and the slim-fitting suit, and his lips parted, his eyes darkening.

“Do you, indeed?” he said quietly.

She nodded, licking her lips, and he shifted closer, until their bodies brushed against one another. One hand lifted up to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking over her skin, his nose almost touching hers.

“How do you want me to kiss you, Belle?” he breathed. “Soft and gentle, like a nervous lover in one of your books? Or hard and hurting and passionate? What do you want, my sweet?”

Her belly was clenching at his words, her breath coming hard in her chest, and she reached out instinctively, her hands sliding around his sides, feeling the heat of his body through the suit. She tilted her head back, meeting his eyes, his breath on her lips.

“Kiss me like you mean it,” she whispered.

He bent his head to capture her mouth with his, his fingers sinking into her hair, sending shivers through her. His tongue pushed into her mouth, stroking against hers, and she moaned, her hands sliding up his back and pulling him closer. Gold pushed her back against the wall, his cane clattering to the floor, his hands sliding down her body to cup her rear. She could feel him against her, the hard length of his cock pushing at her belly, and arousal surged within her, making her kiss messy, frenzied. He kissed down her neck, sucking on her pulse point, and she moaned as shivers ran through her, her abdomen clenching as his tongue swept in circles over her skin. His hands slid up over her hips, fingers brushing against the waistband of her underwear, and she felt her breathing quicken, the scent of him flowing over her as his lips grazed her ear.

“You can tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that vibrated through her and made her shiver.

She shook her head, and he pressed his lips to her throat, his stubble scraping her skin and the softness of his hair brushing her cheek. Belle closed her eyes, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips, and his thumbs slipped beneath the waistband of her lace panties, slowly pulling them down over her hips. She felt them fall around her ankles, and stepped out of them, his fingers tightening on her skin as his tongue swirled over the spot where her pulse throbbed. A tiny moan burst from her throat, and Gold made a low, rumbling sound of pleasure. His hands tightened on her hips, and he pushed her against the wall so that she felt the smooth coolness of the painted plaster against her back.

Gold kissed down her neck, running his hands down her body as he sank to his knees. His hands were on her thighs, pushing up beneath the hem of her dress, and then his mouth was on her, kissing up from her knee, his hair brushing against her skin as he went. Belle let her head thump back against the wall as his nose brushed against her mound, and he kissed her gently. She let out a tiny cry as the tip of his tongue touched her, slipping between her nether lips, stroking over her clit. Gold let out a deep groan of pleasure, his hands sliding around to grip her rear, his tongue swirling and stabbing.

Belle was almost panting, her cheeks flushing as waves of pleasure built within her. Her hands had dropped to rest on his shoulders, and she closed her eyes, concentrating on the soft sweeps of his tongue and his hot breath against her. She could feel her heart thumping, her pulse throbbing in her throat, and she felt her bliss rising as his tongue swept over her, circling and flicking and scraping. He slid his hand down behind her thigh, lifting her leg and draping it over his shoulder so that his tongue could reach more of her, and Belle moaned as he nuzzled her.

Her breath was coming in rapid, shallow bursts, the blood flushing her cheeks and chest, and white light burst in her head as she came with a loud cry. Gold groaned, his tongue flickering over her, his stubble scraping against her as he licked up her cum. Her body was jerking, muscles twitching with the after-effects of her orgasm, and she pressed her palms against the cold wall, trying to calm herself. He kissed her softly before leaning back and lifting the skirt of her dress over his head.

Belle tried to catch her breath as he gazed up at her, his eyes dark with lust and his chin glistening with her fluids. He reached for his cane, getting it under himself and pushing to his feet. He was standing very close, and she could smell his cologne and the musk of his own scent.  She licked her lips, her belly fluttering, and he leaned in, his lips brushing her ear.

“You taste delicious,” he whispered, and she shivered in pleasure.

“Come upstairs,” she said softly, and he reached up to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking over the fullness of her lower lip.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded fiercely, and he kissed her, the scent of her pleasure heavy on his skin, salt and musk on his tongue. His fingers pushed into her hair, and she let her body melt into his, a moan coming from her as she pressed against him. His hands slid down over her shoulders, stroking over the curve of her lower back and under her buttocks, tugging her close, and she could feel the hardness of him between her legs, pressing against her core. She gasped into his mouth, a surge of desire going through her, and pulled out of his grip, reaching for his hand and tugging him with her as she headed for the door that led to the apartment above.

They were silent as they climbed the narrow stairs, Gold’s cane tapping against the treads, and Belle could feel her pulse pounding, her heart thumping. Her cheeks were flushed with desire and the glow of her orgasm, her breathing heavy. He had made her see stars with just the sweep of his tongue, and she was shivering in anticipation at what else he might do. Her hands shook as she unlocked the door to the apartment, and she closed it behind them, walking swiftly to the bedroom and turning on the lamp on the nightstand. The room was immediately bathed in a low, warm light, and she turned to face him, licking her lips. Gold was taking off his tie, fingers digging at the knot and pulling at the silk.

“I don’t have any protection,” he said, and she shook her head.

“It’s okay, I take birth control.”

“Good.”

He pulled the tie from around his neck, draping it over the back of her chair and stepping forward. One finger slid beneath her chin, tilting her head upwards, and Belle felt her breath catch as his eyes locked onto hers.

“Then I get to feel all of you,” he said quietly. “I get to feel how wet you are when I slide inside you. Get to feel your cum running over me.”

Belle moaned, and he bent his head to kiss her, his lips brushing over hers.

“I want to feel it, Belle,” he whispered, his breath hot against her lips. “Feel your cum on my fingers. Taste it on my tongue again. Feel you come when I fuck you.”

He kissed her, his tongue pushing into her mouth, and she reached for the buttons of his jacket, opening it up and pushing it from his shoulders, her belly taut with desire for him, for his touch and his tongue. She unbuttoned his waistcoat, pushing it open, and Gold broke the kiss, taking a step back to slip off the jacket and waistcoat and hang them over the back of the chair. Belle unbuttoned the little cardigan she wore, tossing it aside, and he lifted a hand, spinning one finger in a circle.

“Turn around,” he said.

She turned on her toes, showing him her back, and felt his fingers stroke against the nape of her neck, sending shivers through her. He drew down the zipper of her dress, sliding his fingers under the shoulders and pushing it from her. She let it fall at her feet, feeling him unhook her bra. Gold’s lips trailed across her shoulder to kiss the back of her neck, and she closed her eyes as a ripple of sensation went through her. He sucked at the nape of her neck, and she let out a tiny moan of pleasure as he bit down. His tongue stroked over wet skin, and he kissed his way around, lips brushing against her ear.

“Leave the shoes on,” he whispered.

She made her way to the bed, climbing on and lying with her arms behind her head. He was watching her as he took off his cufflinks, slipping them into his pocket, and he sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes. Belle closed her eyes, her skin tingling in anticipation of his touch. She felt him then, the mattress bowing under his weight as he lay down beside her, his hand sliding up her inner thigh. Her eyes flicked open, meeting his, curtains of soft hair framing his face, and she moaned as he touched her, his fingers stroking through wet flesh.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, and pushed a finger inside her, sliding deep.

Belle arched her back with a moan, and his thumb rubbed over her clit, sending ripples of sensation through her. He began to thrust the finger slowly, in and out, slippery with her juices. She canted her hips, pushing against his hand, and he kissed her, his tongue sliding against hers as his finger slipped in and out of her.

“I want to give you another,” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers. “I want to see how much you can take, Belle. How much of you I can touch. Can you take another?”

She nodded, and he slowly drew out the finger, pushing two into her at once. Belle moaned again, enjoying the feel of them inside her, pushing deep, stretching her. Gold trailed his lips along her jawline, gently nipping at her earlobe.

“Can you take another?” he whispered, and she nodded again.

The third finger felt incredible, sliding inside her, hard and thick, and his thumb circled her clit, making her pant with need. She turned her head to kiss him, and he pushed his tongue in between her lips as his fingers sank deep, the pad of his thumb rubbing at her. Belle could feel herself nearing her peak once more, the blood pounding in her head as the pressure rose, as her muscles tightened. Gold pulled his mouth from hers, kissing along her jaw to her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

“You feel beautiful,” he whispered. “Silk and velvet. I’ve wanted to touch you since the first time I saw you.”

He was still thrusting inside her, and she was seeing stars, her breath hard in her lungs, her body moving against his. She moaned aloud, crying out as her climax hit, a feeling of bliss washing over her. Her body jerked, her walls gripping his fingers, clenching around him, and he growled in response, biting down into the skin of her throat, his tongue swirling over her.

“Good girl,” he growled. “That felt incredible.”

Belle tried to catch her breath, reaching up to pluck at the buttons of his shirt. She got it open, exposing his smooth chest, and he slowly drew his fingers out of her as she pushed the shirt from his shoulders. He sat up to take it off, and his hands dropped to his belt, the buckle clinking as he got it open. Belle watched him undress, pushing pants down over thin hips, his cock tenting the front of his boxers. She licked her lips, reaching for him, and he bent to kiss her, pushing her back on the bed, a hand cupping her breast as his tongue stroked against hers. He broke the kiss, wet mouth trailing down her throat, and shifted down the bed a little until his lips found her breast. His tongue swirled over her nipple, and Belle moaned at the sensation, her body arching upwards, fingers pushing through his hair as he sucked at her.

He shifted again, body sliding between her legs, letting her nipple slip from his mouth as he moved lower, and Belle gasped as his tongue trailed down her body, slipping into the hollow of her navel, sliding down between her legs. She cried out as he licked at her, and Gold groaned, tongue flickering over her wet flesh.

“Your cum’s so good, Belle,” he whispered. “God, you taste incredible!”

He licked her again, his tongue swirling against her, and Belle moaned as he gently pushed a finger inside her, sinking up to the knuckle. The tip of his tongue circled her clit, and she could feel the bliss rising up through her once more, her body chasing it, craving it. His tongue flickered over her, his finger thrusting, and she gripped the sides of his head with her thighs, pushing against him as he licked her, her eyes closed, her breath coming in heavy pants. She was close, her body trembling, her muscles growing taut as she reached her peak, and she came with a cry of release. Gold drew his finger out, groaning as his tongue swept over her, sucking the cum from her as she jerked and moaned and writhed.

Sweat was beading on her upper lip, and she licked it off, throwing an arm up over her eyes as she tried to catch her breath. Gold pressed a final kiss to her, and began moving up her body, his hot breath on her skin. She heard a whisper of silk as he pushed down his underwear, and opened her eyes as he crawled above her on outstretched arms. She could feel his cock against her thigh, hot and hard, and she wanted him, wanted him inside her, pushing deep, filling her. His breathing was heavy, his eyes dark with desire, and she reached up to stroke his hair back from his face.

“Are you ready?” he whispered.

She nodded, and he lowered himself onto his elbows, hands reaching up to cup her face. He kissed her, and the taste of her was on his tongue, her scent on his lips, on his breath. Belle moaned into his mouth, soft strands of his hair slipping through her fingers. His hand slid down her body, reaching between her legs, and then she could feel him pressed against her, the head of his cock pushing at her entrance. She gasped, and their mouths parted, Gold pressing his brow to hers, his breath hot on her lips.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he breathed.

She nodded again, and his lips brushed hers.

“Say it!” he whispered, and her fingers dug into his scalp.

“Fuck me!”

He pushed slowly into her, letting out a deep groan as he slid deep, and Belle arched up into him, drawing up her knees to allow him to fill her. Her hands slid down to his shoulders, slipping beneath his arms to stroke up his back as he began to thrust, his hips moving in slow circles, his body grinding against her.

“ _Fuck_ , you feel incredible!” he gasped.  “God, Belle!”

She moaned at the feel of him, deep inside her, hard and thick, and he cupped her face again, his lips pushing hers apart, his tongue slipping inside her. His scent was filling her head, his skin hot against hers, perspiration making them slippery, and she dug the heels of her shoes into his back as she clung to him. Gold kept up a slow, deliberate rhythm, friction making her cheeks flush and her body tingle where he rubbed against flesh already tender from her pleasure. Belle stroked her fingers down the groove of his spine, feeling the stretch and tug of lean muscles beneath his skin and the thin line of his ribs.

“You feel so good,” he whispered against her lips, his words tickling her. “So soft and wet, holding me tight. I love feeling you all around me, Belle. How wet your cum is all over my cock.”

She moaned at the low rumble of his words, vibrating through her, and his kissed her again, his tongue stroking against hers, the taste of him sweet in her mouth, their lips grown slippery with saliva. He ground against her, a rush of sensation making her moan, and she let her hands fall back against the pillows, pushing her breasts against his firm chest. Gold kissed along her jaw and down her throat, sliding his hands up her arms to grasp her wrists and push them down. He drew his tongue up the length of her throat, thrusting deep inside her, and Belle let out a tiny cry of pleasure, bucking her hips against him to increase the friction. Gold’s grip tightened, and he quickened his pace a little, groaning as she scraped her heels down his back.

“ _Fuck_ , yes!” he rasped. “God, I have to come inside you! Deep inside you!”

His thrusts became rapid, shallow, his hands gripping her wrists, and Belle could feel her climax approaching, pleasure rising up through her. Gold threw his head back with a guttural cry as he came, his cock pulsing, and the feel of it took her with him, a wave of bliss crashing through her. She came with a wail, lights bursting in her head, and he groaned over and over as his hips pumped and his cock throbbed, hot seed squirting up inside her. He released her wrists, pressing his palms into the pillows as he kissed her neck, and she ran her hands up his back, gripping his shoulders tightly as she bucked against him, letting out tiny cries of pleasure.

Gold slowed his movements, pressing languid kisses along her jaw as he settled on top of her, and Belle let her head roll back, her heart thumping and her chest heaving. He was a pleasant weight on top of her, heat and wetness where their bodies joined. His tongue traced the line of her throat, and his hands caressed her cheeks, stroking her hair back as he kissed her. Belle let out a contented hum, fingers pushing through his hair, feeling him shrink inside her. His lips pulled at hers, and he pushed up on his elbows, gazing down at her with sleepy eyes.

“That,” he said softly, “was everything I wanted from the first moment I saw you.”

Belle giggled.

“Everything?” she teased. “I can think of other things _I_ want, you know.”

“I’m delighted to hear it.” He nuzzled her nose with his. “I look forward to satisfying your every wish.”

“Hmm.” She wriggled contentedly, twining her arms around his neck. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He grinned, his eyes crinkling, and she felt a surge of emotion go through her, the dawning realisation that she was utterly and completely in love with him.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” he said gently.

She kissed him again, her mouth opening hungrily to taste him once more. His hair was brushing her cheeks, his scent in her nose, her body sated and sticky. She wanted to talk to him about what direction their relationship would take, about how she felt, about everything she had kept locked up tight since they had first met. But there would be time for that. There would be time for everything.


End file.
